


Little Black Dress

by spellwing777



Series: Split [2]
Category: Watchmen (Comic), Watchmen - All Media Types
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M, Self-cest, These two being nice to each other for once, Working out issues through roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-27 13:42:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8403880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spellwing777/pseuds/spellwing777
Summary: Rorschach doin' Walter wearing a dress. I swear it makes sense if you actually read it. Kinda-sorta part of 'Split'. An outtake if you will.





	1. Chapter 1

Saturday was the rare day that the both of them were home and awake at the same time. Walter had taken to scrubbing the place down with vengeance, for once having the energy and willpower to do so. Before the split, he didn’t have the energy, and even after when he’d been able to sleep through the whole night instead of being out at all hours, it had taken a week of full rest to recover his energy. Rorschach watched him, tucked into a corner out of the way, having his breakfast and not contributing, as normal. He’d even been forced to make the bowl of oatmeal for his vigilante half, because apparently cooking even that was beyond his other half. Apparently, he was the one that had gotten all the domestic skills.

“Never imagined I would be the housewife to myself.” He muttered. He heard Rorschach snort, amused, and a clatter as he dumped the bowl into the sink. He tossed an annoyed look his way. “Run some water over it at least.”

“Yes honey.” Rorschach deadpanned, but obliged. He didn’t wash it, out of sheer obstinacy. “If you don’t like being housewife here, perhaps you could go to Daniel’s instead?”

Walter tossed him a glare. He did _not_ need the subtle reminder of how he had-against better judgment-had gone over to Daniel’s house and made him pancakes of all things. It was stupid, risky thing to do and they knew it, and Rorschach hadn’t let him forget it. He sighed, and let go of the anger, because it was useless to be angry at his other half, especially when he was right.

He resumed scrubbing, and idly commentated: “Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad.”

“Hnn?”

“Being the housewife.” He said, and at his back Rorschach made a confused noise.

“To Daniel. Would be nice, if I was female. Our relationship would be morally acceptable at least.”

Rorschach grunted, only half listening.

Walter scrubbed the last of the stain away. “Sometimes fantasize about what it would be like. Much easier, I imagine. Doubtless would have to deal with less pay, and other issues, but at least would be perfectly acceptable to enter into a relationship. Could accept his attempts at help and gifts with more…grace.”

He slapped a towel down to soak up the water, and looked up to see that Rorschach was staring at him.

“You fantasize about that?”

He shrugged. “More of a…daydream, I suppose.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “He has mentioned his previous dates with females, and seemed to be a perfect gentlemen. Took them to nice restaurants, gave gifts, well thought-out romantic gestures. Imagine that it would be nice to be treated like that.”

Rorschach seemed to mull that over for a bit, but soon enough he was ducking out of the window, heading out to patrol.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day, Sunday, he was able to finally get away from the Laundromat, feeling frazzled and snappish. All his clothes were done though, sitting in neat piles in his bag (a heavy-duty garbage bag, his laundry basket having given up the ghost ages ago) and he started to put them away in the storage bin that passed for a dresser when his other half finally woke up from his dead sleep. He rolled off the bed, sniffing around for food.

For a moment, Walter didn’t notice it. Until he went to change the sheets, and then it was staring him in the face.

It was…actually not that bad looking. The dress, that is. A simple black sheath with thin straps. What it was doing wadded up under where Rorschach had been sleeping was anybody’s guess, though. He held it up and smoothed it out, looking it over in confusion.

“I have plenty of rags for cleaning and bandages,” He said “And this isn’t even wool or cotton, its _satin_. What could I possibly do with this?”

“Wear it.” He grunted.

Walter glared at him. “Not funny.”

“Not joking.”

He blinked.

“…What?”

\---

“It was _your_ idea.”

“That’s not-“ He spluttered, “That’s not what I _meant_!”

“Said that you fantasize about it.” He said, patiently, as if he was speaking to a slow child.

Walter wanted to hit him. He felt the anger crest, but he held it back and breathed out. Slowly.

“Why,” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Would you think putting me in a cocktail dress would be a good idea?”

“You wanted to be treated like a lady.” He crunched down on some stray sugar cubes he’d found. “Thought the dress might help.”

“Help with _what_?”

“Playing out this debacle of a fantasy you want.” He grunted. “Will play Daniel, you his…wife.”

“But…why? Why in the world would you go along with…this?” His other half had so far been unable to hold up his half in the bargain of satisfying each other. Rorschach had been getting the sex he needed, but Walter hadn’t gotten the warm affection that he needed, mainly because it was difficult, but Rorschach wasn’t even _trying_. Why all the effort now?

He growled, and struggled to articulate his motives. He’d been failing, partly form a lack of effort on his side and he knew it, but partly because he just didn’t know _how_. “Don’t know how to provide what you want. Acting out a fantasy would be easiest.”

He paused, contemplating. “A list of what you want me to do would be appreciated.”

Walter stared at him. “You…you want me to give you a script? To tell you what to do?”

“Yes.”

Walter blinked a few times to let this sink in. His other half-if he was hearing this right- _wanted_ him to tell him exactly what he wanted and he’d do it. This was…well, ridiculous. He was going to wear a dress, for one. **And** act like a female **and** be treated like one. But it did come with the benefit of being treated like a beloved spouse, and that sounded…nice, actually.

He swallowed. “…Okay.”


	3. Chapter 3

The whole apartment had been scrubbed with a vengeance, even the walls (as far as he reach, which…wasn’t much) and there were new curtains, sewn out of old clothes. They’d been made of grandmother’s floral print dresses that had been rejected as being too ugly for even the cheapest thrift stores, left to strew the ground around drop boxes. On the rails they didn’t look much better, but they were far better than the previous ones, worn to filmy tatters by what little sun that came in. The only thing that had been holding the previous ones together were the grease of thousands of inhabitants meals, and dust. Even the blankets and sheets on his bed had been replaced with plain yellow ones, and a brown comforter. It was worn and old, but relatively intact, and tucked into hospital corners, actually presentable. That was the only thing he’d actually bought from a thrift store, everything else had been scavenged and repurposed. He even had a new rug to cover the threadbare carpet, so bleached that it’s Turkish pattern was almost indistinguishable, found on a street corner. With the dirt beat out of it, the rug was a pale yellow rather than the dun color it had been before.

He actually had to stand back and survey the place. It was…nice, actually. Housekeeping really slipped when you spent all your time as a vigilante and working, but now he had the time and energy to waste on making his living quarters…livable. Hell, with all the extra hours he’d worked he’d even had enough to afford cleaning supplies and a range so he could cook. He’d also found an ugly set of chinex and aluminum silverware, and a thick, cast-iron pot that looked like it was leftover from medieval times, but it was serviceable. The thing that had actually cost him the most was the roast and vegetables, but even that was a small cost for the novelty of a home cooked meal, rather than canned food or diner leftovers from Daniel’s fridge. It had been a long time since he’d actually cooked anything, having stopped soon after taking up the vigilante lifestyle. Still, he remembered enough to do it. He even still had dried spices left from so many years ago, carted from place to place, his miserly streak loath to give up even those things that he never used. At least garlic powder never expired, so long as it was kept dry. Carrots, onions, and potatoes on the bottom, roast on top, and set on low to simmer all day, and by the time the day was done it was ready.

He actually caught himself enjoying it throughout the day at times, in a strange way. Cooking in his (relatively) clean flat, not just for himself but for two. It wasn’t because he was enjoying acting as the wife for this scene, it was something else undefinable. It felt a bit like the emotion that had swelled in his chest when Daniel had so obviously enjoyed the pancakes he’d made for both of them, the feeling of pride of making him happy with something so simple. It wasn’t quite the same, since he was making this for himself and, well, himself, instead of Daniel and him, but still. It felt good to engage in simple domestic tasks, to eat homemade food and clean up his residence so it didn’t remind him so much of the crackdens that he busted on a regular basis (or, more depressingly, of his mother’s apartment).

He may not be really into this, but it did have its benefits. He especially wasn’t into wearing the dress, but he struggled into it anyway, and it looked…well, as horrible and ridiculous as expected. It clung, especially around his broad shoulders and torso, hanging baggy over his slim hips and standing out like the prow of a boat over his chest, trying to cup cleavage that wasn’t there. It came to mid-calf, exposing some of his pale, hairy legs. He pulled on some white, knee-high socks, and it…helped about as much as he was expecting.

Which was none.

He sighed, and a knock interrupted just as he toed on the black house shoes, and he forced himself to answer. He glanced through the peephole just to make sure it was Rorschach and there was no one malingering in the hallway, and opened it.

The flowers were a nice touch, he’d have to admit.

Rorschach stepped in, his face nearly obscured with red. A dozen roses even, although they were very slightly crushed from where they’d been sitting in a dumpster outside a flower shop. He’d managed to scrounge a vase too, perfectly intact, even if it was just cheap clear plastic. Walter gently arranged them, and while some had to be thrown out, he had ten left over that were decent. It actually looked nice on the cheap folding table, hidden as it was by an off-white tablecloth.

“…Thank you.” He said quietly, and meant it. Even though he knew it was just part of the scene, he was still touched, and couldn’t help but admire them. “They’re beautiful.”

Rorschach grunted, then, seeming to remember that he was supposed to play a role, added: “You’re welcome.” He paused. “…Dear.”

The ‘dear’ tacked on made him wince. It sounded so stiff and artificial, but he forced himself to ignore it. “Why don’t you take off your coat and sit. The food should be done.”

He obediently took off the coat and folded himself into a chair while Walter set out the silverware and plates. Rorschach pulled out some candles out of his suit jacket, to his surprise, and set them on the table. He was tempted to ask where he’d gotten them, (probably filched from Daniel’s kitchen drawers) but he just lit them. The Dutch oven was heavy, and he didn’t dare set it on the cheap table. He awkwardly cut chunks off the roast and speared some vegetable to transfer to a serving plate, leaving the rest in the pot. He didn’t have a fridge for leftovers, but with Rorschach’s appetite he probably wouldn’t need to worry about that.

It was…well, probably quite bland and tasteless, but this was the first homemade food he’d had in a long, long time, so he devoured it with relish, and so did his doppelganger. Rorschach looked up from his clean plate, licking his lips like a satisfied cat.

“Very good.” He growled, and this wasn’t a put on. “More, please.”

He served him and then, what the hell, himself. Two servings felt indulgent, but he’d hate for it to go to waste anyway. At the end of it he felt heavy and warm, and from the drooping lids of his other half, so did he. It wasn’t exactly a sleepy feeling, just…relaxed, and content. This was feeling less like something deviant and weird role-play and more…ordinary? So far there hadn’t been any sex, and sense they’d started into the food, the awkward tension had vanished. He could still do without the dress, but it was what had permitted this pleasant evening devoid of bickering or tension, so he’d leave it on.

Rorschach grunted, shifting in his chair, and unbuckled his belt a little to get more comfortable. He laid back with an almost-sigh, the most content that he’d ever felt. He could finally relax in the apartment, and it felt good. At Daniel’s he had too much lust to contend with to completely relax, and of course on patrol relaxing meant a shiv between the ribs. Here he’d usually only have peace when Walter was gone, which was only a small window of time. When he was here, even when they didn’t bicker, there was a tension in the air that didn’t let him relax.

He practically dozed in the chair until the clink of dishes stirred him, and he looked up to see Walter gathering the dishes, his ‘cleavage’ right at eye level. He stared at it contemplatively, at the way it gave a false impression of breasts, courtesy of the firm padding sewn in. He blinked as his hind-brain actually wished it was _real_ , leaving him confused. He’d only ever had sexual attraction to Daniel after a long, and intimate partnership, so he’d come to the shame-filled conclusion that he was homosexual (at least when it came to Daniel).

He wondered if he wasn’t as homosexual as he’d assumed. He’d always despised women because of a slew of moral reasons, but he was the less inhibited half after all. Maybe his more base urges had the opportunity to speak up because they had to fight through fewer barriers to be heard. He experimented, and tried to envision Daniel as a Danielle and didn’t find the picture any less appealing, although his other half probably would, considering his issues with women.

Walter jumped when he unthinkingly put out a hand to feel his ‘breast’ flushing bright red. Rorschach blinked and withdrew his hand, remembering himself, and tried to play it off. “Ehn, sorry. Been a long day. Have…missed you, dear.”

Walter stilled looked uncomfortable, but he nodded. “It’s…all right.” An awkward pause. “Missed you too.”

Curious, he decided to try something. “Come here?”

He patted his lap, and Walter eyed him warily. They didn’t exactly have a script they were supposed to follow, but this was getting a little off course. He decided to go with it anyway though, because after dishes he really didn’t have an idea of what to do next. Might as well go along with whatever Rorschach had in mind.


	4. Chapter 4

He sat down crosswise on the very edge of his lap, and eyed him warily. Rorschach ignored it, wrapping his arms around him to draw him close, and Walter went reluctantly. Rorschach was being gentle right now, but there was no telling when the roughness would start, so he was tense and anxious. He flinched at a hand on his jaw, but went along with his chin being tilted up and angled so Rorschach could kiss him. It wasn’t a nice kiss, mostly just an awkward, repeated press of lips, but he went along with it. Eventually Walter tried to experiment, because if he was going to be kissed he might as well try _something_ , and flicked a tongue across his other half’s lips, tasting. He didn’t object, so he kept doing it, and eventually it transformed into an open-mouthed kiss more or less, their tongues sliding across each other. It wasn’t titillating. It was…odd, but not all that objectionable. There was none of the urgency or harshness of before. It was like he was practicing his technique on a doll really, one that could kiss back. Eventually, he relaxed and so did Rorschach, his vigilante half laying back in his chair with Walter settled comfortably against his torso, Walter’s arms draped around his shoulders and crossed behind his neck.

They broke the kiss, and Walter looked down at the relaxed form of his other half. His eyes were half lidded, and he blinked slowly up at Walter, looking like he could go for a nap. He’d been lulled into a quiet calm by the food and low tension, and it occurred to Walter that he could try some things that he’d wanted to do on Daniel, and for once his other half was too relaxed to squirm away or immediately turn it into a quick, hard fuck. He could take his time and go slow, and they didn’t even have to have sex either. That was one thing that he’d gotten his other half to agree too in their discussion before this, along with more mundane concerns like the time and date, is that he wouldn’t force this into being a rough, sexual affair. Now, without the ever-present threat of the wrong move turning into angry, self-loathing sex, he could try all the physical displays of affection that he’d always wanted to.

It took a little bit of tugging on his other half’s suitjacket to get the idea across, but he did take it off with a minimum of objection, and he could see the relief in the set of Rorschach’s shoulders. He hadn’t liked wearing Walter’s horrid green suit, he hated wearing anything of Walter’s, anything that wasn’t his uniform. It made him itch.

Walter just…petted him, sort of. He stroked his upper arms and shoulders while trying a few kisses on his jaw and neck, and Rorschach made an almost-purr, rough because he wasn’t used to making pleased noises other than a satisfied ‘hrm’ after knocking out a criminal. He was actually enjoying this. Apparently, letting Walter have his way wasn’t as difficult as he’d thought. He’d thought that trying to give Walter the affection and gentleness he’d needed would require far more involvement than this, more than just laying back and letting him touch and kiss him leisurely. He didn’t see the appeal-after all, he wasn’t the soft, sentimental half-but it was better than having to endure the constant, frustrated anger and pain of an unloved Walter.

Walter pulled back, and gave him a beseeching look. “Touch me?”

Rorschach hesitated, his hands hovering near Walter’s sides. “…How?”

Walter gently pressed his hands against his ribs. “Imitate what I’ve been doing to you.”

Rorschach nodded, and did exactly as he was asked. He’d been alarmed for a second at Walter demanding participation, but if just petting him like he was a cat was all that was required, then acting out affection was easier than he’d realized. Walter made a soft, pleased sigh and relaxed under the touch. He stroked up his sides, his back, even ran a hand through his hair, and throughout it Walter made soft, content noises. Until his had brushed against the side of his ‘breast’ again, and Walter stiffened, pulling away. He hadn’t actually meant to touch him there like last time and it had only been an accidental brush, but Walter was bristling anyway, giving him a confused, angry look.

The glare might have had more impact if the shift hadn’t alerted him to the fact Walter was aroused. The thin satin did nothing to hide his erection, in fact the way it bunched around it made it more obvious. As soon as he realized Rorschach had noticed, he flushed. Normally, this would be blood in the water for Rorschach; an opportunity to take advantage of. But right now, they were playing by Walter’s rules, and really, he didn’t _want_ an angry, resentful Walter to tolerate him as he was fucked. It was obvious that ‘slow and gentle’ worked, perhaps if he was stimulated enough he’d _want_ Rorschach to have him.

Walter’s face registered surprise when he ran his palms up his sides, but he arched into the touch like a cat. He also kissed him, slowly, chastely, while he stroked him. His other half quickly subsided again and let himself be coddled, but he soon started to squirm, his hips rocking in slow, unconscious movements. He outright whined when Rorschach ran his hands through his hair, blunt fingernails scratching along his scalp, and had to choke off a moan when his throat was kissed.

He kept at it, surprised at how much this was affecting his civilian half. He knew every erogenous zone on his-their?-body, and how many rough, quick strokes would get him off, but apparently it was gentleness that really got him going. Walter was practically pressed against him now, openly rutting against him in slow, torturous movements. The friction was starting to affect him too, his cock bent uncomfortably against the seam of his pants, every roll of Walter’s hips pressing it against the curve of his ass.

Rubbing the heel of his palms along Walter’s thighs made the fabric bunch and pull, and he made a stuttering whine. “Let-let’s move to the bed h-honey?”

His purr at that sounded almost like a growl, and he sat up with Walter in his arms, easily able to carry him with the way he was clinging to his vigilante half, shaking and eager.

He sat down on the bed, and Walter reached behind him to pull the zipper down, but he grabbed his wrist before he could. “Leave it on.”

Walter stared at him. He wanted him to…he wanted to fuck Walter while he wore a…

He honestly had no way to really parse this, but one thought _did_ float up. _Technically, you **are** fucking your own clone so, really, what was a bit of cross-dressing going to do to make this any worse?_

He blinked, digesting this; and instead rested his hands on Rorschach’s shoulders. They went back to kissing for a moment, Rorschach getting bolder and more aggressive as they went on. One hand slid up to cup one of the fake breasts, squeezing and kneading, the thumb stroking over the satin. Every pass rolled over his nipple, the slick fabric sliding across, making him shiver and break out into goose bumps. He still didn’t get what Rorschach’s obsession with the dress, but he was quickly forgetting that he cared. He forgot completely when Rorschach’s hand slid over his ass and rubbed his hole firmly, the satin grinding into him. He had to muffle himself in his other half’s collar, hips grinding his erection into his lower stomach. He almost got himself off from that, but…well, fair’s fair, right? Besides, maybe if he rewarded this behavior it might encourage a repeat.

Rorschach made a pleased sound as Walter fiddled with his belt, bucking and growling when he managed to get a hand in and squeeze him firmly. It was to work of a moment to reach for the box under the bed for the Vaseline and slick him, driving him crazy with getting him coated very, _very_ thoroughly. He shoved the tub into his other half’s hand with a hoarse whisper of ‘your turn’ and sat up, keeling on the bed straddling Rorschach. He didn’t even bother to hike up the dress, just dipped his hands in the grease and slid up under it. Walter had to brace his hands on his other half shoulders and try not to wail when the greased fingers pushed in. It wasn’t because it hurt, it was because it felt so _good_. The other times had been so rough, a sharp bite to the pleasure, but this time Rorschach took his time to slide in; letting him rock on his fingers, adding more only when he moaned for it. He had to fight to last, but it was worth it when he could sink down on the real thing, finally resting in his lap, giving his quivering thighs a break.

He felt stretched and full, but no pain or burning like other times. Being on top gave him complete control, which let him slide onto his other half as slowly as he needed to, and Rorschach had let him. He was still letting Walter do as he liked, wonder of wonders, the only sign of how badly he was struggling to keep himself controlled was the too-tight grip he had on Walter’s hips and the fine tremors running through him. He only stayed motionless for the absolute minimum to get used to the stretch, because Rorschach was behaving so well and he just didn’t have the heart to torture him. Besides, he _wanted_ to move, to feel the slide of his cock inside him, and if he stayed still too long, the shame would come creeping back.

He slowly lifted up, shaking, and slid back down, biting his lip from feeling the blunt head roll over his prostate. Rorschach growled and squirmed, just barely staying under control, as Walter set up a slow pace. He didn’t stay slow though, speeding up until he was fucking himself hard on Rorschach. The latter now just leaned back on the headboard, his eyes wide and unseeing, both hands on Walter’s chest over the padding, kneading it like a cat. The heels of his hands rolled the cool satin over his nipples, which were even more sensitive now. He could feel the way his other half was tensing up, almost at the edge of orgasm.

“Touch me, touch me, _please_ -” He gasped into Rorschach’s ear, and whined as he wrapped a hand around him and the fabric.

He jacked him as he moved, twisting the fabric around his erection, the matt black shiny with precum. Just a few rough twists was enough to set him off, cum soaking the dress, soaking _through_ it, running over his hand-

Rorschach snarled, his hips snapping up into him, other arm pinning him in place as his orgasm was milked out of him by Walter’s contractions. Both their orgasms seemed to go on forever, until they both sagged, Walter laying boneless across Rorschach, and Rorschach-equally boneless-held up only by the headboard. They stayed the way until Rorschach softened, sliding out of Walter, and he stood shakily. He was barely able to make it to the bathroom, but he slid off the dress. He stared at it, soaked with sweat and cum, and flushed. He walked over to the trash bin, to throw it out-

_If you save it-_

__If you save it-_ _

___-maybe there will be a next time?_ _ _

__He stopped, then threw it into the sink and ran water over it, cleaned himself off, then went back to Rorschach. He cleaned him off as well, uncharacteristically gentle, Rorschach blinking up at him in confusion. He paused, and looked at his other half._ _

__“…Thank you.” Walter said, quietly._ _

__Rorschach cocked his head, then nodded, and-willingly-let Walter squeeze in next to him and hold him. They slept, for once without dreams._ _

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the kinkmeme, as per usual.


End file.
